The Man From Falcon Ridge

But ghosts weren’t real. No, danger came from real, live men who wanted to control the women they were involved with. Not ones who were buried and long gone. Besides, the real estate agent assured her the killer was serving a life sentence in prison.

It was time to stop running and build her own life. She’d held her ground with Rex Falcon, refusing to let his gruff, mysterious demeanor intimidate her. His dark, sexy eyes had trapped her, though, and a spark of awareness had passed between them. A sexual spark that she had no intention of exploring.

The low hum of the snowstorm outside echoed through the house, reminding her she was alone. Rex Falcon’s predatory expression flashed back. He hadn’t wanted her here. She’d sensed that was the reason he’d mentioned the ghosts.

But she refused to let anything chase her away.

And she was not here to get entangled with a man.

The wood floor creaked as she closed the front door and fumbled for the light switch. But the power company had yet to turn on the electricity. The realtor claimed the furniture had been left in place. Maybe there were some candles around, also.

The stale smell of a house having been closed up filled the chilly air as she moved into the parlor. Twilight settled over the interior, painting the sheet-draped furniture with gray, but on the mantel she spotted a silver candelabra. She hurried over, blew the top layer of dust away, then found a pack of matches on the hearth of the brick fireplace. The pack was so old it took three times before she finally lit the slender tapered candlesticks, but she was grateful for the soft glow.

Then she studied the room. Heavy velvety drapes covered the windows and hung to the floor, obliterating the outside, and creating an ominous, claustrophobic feeling. Hailey shivered, her uneasiness mounting. But those curtains shielded her from the outside and any strangers who might be roaming in the woods. And they were thick enough to help ward off the cold, as well.

She’d replace the windows with Thermopane ones, trade the drapes for blinds so the natural light could spill in during the daytime, and she could shut them at night.

The walls were dingy and needed paint, too, and dust motes swirled in the halo of candlelight. Cobwebs clung to the ceiling and a spider retreated into a corner to spin its web. Clutching the candelabra in her hand, she decided to check out the rest of the house.

Her footsteps echoed in the empty rooms as she walked through the hallway to the kitchen. The counters and woodwork were faded and chipped, but the old-fashioned oven and stove supposedly still worked. The refrigerator was an ancient model with no ice maker, but was functional, and there was no dishwasher. Dust covered the dingy beige countertops, and she spotted droppings near the bottom of the wood cupboard door that had probably come from mice. A set of old-fashioned café curtains in faded orange hung over the bay window, but she nudged them aside to look out at a majestic view of the Colorado mountains. The valley below would be green in summer, but now brown dotted the trees, along with an increasing layer of snow.

She imagined the white-topped mountain peaks at sunset, and a smile tugged at her lips.

But the wind howled outside, the thin panes of glass crackling with the force. The floor was darker near the mudroom, too. She stepped closer to examine the deep brown of the planks, but a sense of horror immobilized her.

Was the dark area the bloodstain from the family who’d died inside the room twenty years ago?

TWENTY YEARS SINCE anyone had lived in the Hatchet House. And now this woman…

Rex couldn’t shake his anxiety over her appearance. Hailey Hitchcock was beautiful. But she was in trouble. Running from something. Probably scared of her own shadow although she’d tried to appear unfazed by his appearance.

So why had she bought a supposedly haunted old house in the middle of nowhere in the dead of winter?

Because she didn’t want to be found. But wasn’t she afraid to live alone in a house where a brutal crime had occurred? And who was she running from? Her husband? A lover?

Or could she be in trouble with the law?

His father’s haggard face materialized. Years ago, he’d been tall in stature, a mountain of a man with an animalistic nature and skin bronzed from the sun and outdoor work. Now, he was pale and drawn, the lack of ample light and time in his natural environment killing him. Just as it would kill Rex and his brothers to be locked away, deprived of the very essence of their being.

And his mother…she had suffered so much over the years. She’d loved their father unconditionally, had stood beside him at the trial, had endured the tauntings of the neighbors. Even after his father’s conviction, she’d tried to hold her head up in the town, but some people were cruel. So, she’d finally taken her boys to Arizona, far away from the hateful gossip and condemning eyes.

Just returning to Falcon Ridge, Rex felt those damning eyes as if the past twenty years hadn’t passed, as if he was that same child who’d been ostracized as a killer’s child.

Telling himself Hailey Hitchcock was not his concern, that his job here was to find the man who’d framed his father, he strode through the ten-foot-tall stone walls that shaped his homestead on Falcon Ridge. The icy, cavernous rooms echoed with age, like a fortress that had stood the test of time against the bitter Colorado elements.

Although his mother had hated the monastery-like house and stone walls, the fact that they’d been virtually cut off from civilization during the long winter months, the house resurrected happy memories of his childhood. Of running through the mammoth structure, hiding in the labyrinth of rooms in the basement. Hiking with his dad into the woods to watch the birds of prey.

He went to his basement office, the space he had set up for his P.I. business, booted up his computer and pulled up the old case files on his father’s arrest. The Lyles’ son, eight-year-old Steven, had been the apple of his father’s eye. Mrs. Lyle had become a recluse, though, and kept the little girl, who was supposedly autistic, at home. According to the locals, Lyle, an attorney, had been charismatic, covering for his wife with excuses.

Rex’s father had been the caretaker of the grounds. He’d claimed Mrs. Lyle was afraid of her husband, that he was abusing his wife and daughter. But no one else could corroborate his story. And Rex’s father’s long trek alone into the woods that day had robbed him of an alibi.

Rex skimmed further, trying to figure out the motive they’d attached to his father’s alleged crimes. If he’d had an affair with Mrs. Lyle, why murder her and the children? Why not kill the abusive husband?

Frustrated, he rammed a hand through his hair. In fact, they’d never found the hatchet itself or any bloody clothes or fingerprints. Were they somewhere in the house or on the grounds?

He stood and paced, thinking about Hailey Hitchcock in that house alone. She hadn’t brought much with her, just a suitcase or two he’d seen in the back seat and whatever had fit in her trunk. Was she having her other things shipped, or did her lack of belongings suggest she’d left in a hurry?

He pictured those reddish-brown eyes and his body hardened, a surge of lust burning through him.

Was she sleeping in that house tonight? Thinking of the people who’d lived there before her?

SHE WAS LOCKED IN A ROOM.

Alone. Frightened. Only a child.

She curled within the darkness, listening for footsteps, but the house was silent. The air felt heavy around her. Sickening. Stale. Deathly quiet.

Was he coming back for her?

She opened one eye and scanned the interior of her prison, the whisper of a breath cascading through the dust-filled room.

“I’ll be back for you,” he’d said.

She shivered. She wanted out. But she didn’t want him to come. No, not him. He scared her so bad she’d wet her pants once. And that had made him madder.

A sob welled in her throat, and she rubbed her arms, fighting panic. Then footsteps pounded up the steps. The shuffling sounded familiar. It was him.

One. Two. Three. Four. He was getting closer.

A scream locked in her throat. The shadow below the doorway moved, blocking the tiny sliver of light she’d latched on to.

Her safety net. It was gone.

Then the doorknob rattled, and he opened the door. She shrank back against the closet door as he stalked toward her…

Hailey jerked awake, sweat-soaked from her nightmare. Her breathing erratic, she searched the darkness for intruders, trying to orient herself in the predawn light. Where was she?

She had been dreaming, hadn’t she? Or had she been remembering one of her foster homes?

The floor creaked in the old house. Was that a footstep?

She hugged the sheets, listening carefully. Another squeak. It was coming from the attic. Chipmunks or mice maybe?

Struggling for calm, she pulled on a robe, rose and peeked into the hall. Shadows claimed the corners, then something moved at the opposite end. A shadow. Almost ghostlike, it floated into one of the extra bedrooms, the ones where the children had slept.

Her throat muscles worked to swallow. She had to have imagined it.

But another creaking sound broke the quiet. A foot-step maybe. The distinct sensation of air moving around her caused her to pause, the scent of lilacs drifting nearer. She wasn’t alone, the smell, the sound of someone walking—this time it was real.

AS USUAL, REX WOKE with the dawn. He slid on the protective gloves he used to work with the hawks, lifted the cloth from the cage and looked inside. Sutter, he called him, a ferruginous hawk who’d been hit by a pellet gun, stared up at him with caution. After the pellets had been removed the bird needed rest, but soon he’d be able to hunt again. A few quiet moments passed as they assessed one another. Rex felt the connection, the bond of trust forming between himself and the animal.

Sutter’s wings fluttered slightly, revealing his dark brown underbelly, and the whitish comma at the wrist, a good sign. Rex reassured the hawk that he was a friend, then eased open the cage and left him some food. The bird wasn’t ready to come out just yet, maybe the next day.

Finally, he went inside and gathered his work tools. He’d start at the Hatchet House this morning. His suspicions over the young woman who’d bought the place rose again, so he’d run a background check on her. The more information he had, the better equipped he’d be to handle her.

His phone jangled. “Falcon here.”

“Are you settled in?” Brack asked.

“Pretty much. I’ve got the computer system up and running, and installed a fireproof safe for backup files. The security system was a bitch, but it’s in, too.” He paused. “How’s Mom?”

“She’s fine, just worried about you. She’s afraid reopening Dad’s case might be dangerous.”

It probably would be. He drummed his fingers on the desk. “Remind her that her boys are grown now.”

“Yeah, like that’ll pacify her.” Brack barked a laugh. “Be careful, Rex.”

Rex sighed. “Listen, there’s a slight complication. This woman named Hailey Hitchcock moved into the Hatchet House.” Rex explained his offer to work for her. “I pulled up some information on her. She was living in Denver, where she worked at an antiques auction house. Apparently there’s a missing person’s report out on her. It was filed by a local attorney.”

He couldn’t stop wondering why exactly the man had been looking for her. Had the two been involved or was their relationship work related?

“You want me to check into it?”

“Yeah, it seems too damn coincidental that she showed up right after I moved back.”

“You think someone might have hired her to come there?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t like her being in that house.”

It was too dangerous for one thing. Not that he cared about the woman…

Brack promised to investigate Hailey, and Rex hung up, his thoughts jumbled. If she was in trouble, he needed to know exactly what kind.

THE WIND HURLED a branch against the window, the scraping sound reminding Hailey that she was alone. But she was in Colorado, inside her new house on top of the mountain. No one could find her here. She was safe. Starting over.

Putting the past behind her.

Thankfully, the sound of footsteps had died. She combed the upstairs, but found nothing. No sign of the ghost of the child she thought she’d seen. The noise must have been the wind blowing debris on the roof.

Still shaken, though, she pushed back the heavy drapes and stared into the darkness, searching for signs that someone had been nearby. A light snow had fallen overnight, with promises of more to come. If she managed any renovations to the house, it needed to be within the next few weeks before winter seized the land and immobilized everything. A light burned from the big stone house at the top of the hill.

Rex Falcon.

Her body grew hot just thinking about his dark eyes.

He was big. Strong. A towering specimen of a male with a muscular body that emanated strength and power. The kind of man who could protect a woman.

The kind who could hurt her with those big hands.

She didn’t intend to get involved with him. Men were trouble. Especially one as dangerous looking as Rex Falcon.

After dressing in jeans, a sweatshirt and jacket, she carried her morning coffee into the woods. Inhaling the crisp cool December air, she savored the solitude. Except for the forest creatures, she was alone. Blissfully, peacefully alone.

A beautiful eagle flew above. She watched it glide across the sky. It was free, content, soaring through the azure sky as if it didn’t have a care in the world.

Maybe she’d find that peace and tranquility, too.

“Miss Hitchcock?”

Hailey startled and jumped backward, then realized the voice belonged to Rex Falcon. She glanced up into his piercing dark eyes and fought a shiver of anxiety. His gaze seemed probing, as if he was trying to see into her soul. Her defenses rose.

He wouldn’t like what he found there, she was sure.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

His dark eyebrow slid up a fraction at her tone. “I’m ready to get started.” He stood ramrod straight, his massive shoulders powerful inside his work shirt. Early-morning sunlight glinted off his black hair, a few water droplets clinging to the overly long ends as if he’d just stepped from the shower.

She dragged her gaze downward, grateful to see the toolbox in his hand. He’d said he was a carpenter. He’d come here to work, not socialize. That she could deal with.

“Have you decided where you want to begin?”

Rattled by his gruff voice and the magnitude of his masculinity, she shook her head. “There’s so much to do, I’m not sure where to start.”

“I’d suggest the bathrooms, plumbing probably needs checking.”

She sipped her coffee. “Right. They just restored the power in time for coffee.”

He nodded. “Do you always get out this early?”

She tensed, then realized he was simply making conversation. “I couldn’t resist a morning walk. It’s so beautiful here.”

“Yes, it is.” His gaze roved over her, and she hugged her coffee mug, trying to ignore the tingling sensation his heated gaze evoked.

As if he sensed the heat, and didn’t like it, either, he cut his gaze to the sky where a hawk swooped low. His expression changed, grew more intense, yet more peaceful at the same time.

Hailey swallowed, wondering at his thoughts. Then Rex’s gaze met hers, and another unnerving ripple of desire spread through her. She wanted him to touch her. To hold her. To make her nightmares go away.

Crazy. No man could do that.

Completely baffled by her reaction, she turned abruptly. “All right, start with the plumbing. I’ll tackle cleaning up the rooms. Then we’ll talk about where we go from there.”

He gave her a clipped nod, then followed. Hailey snuggled inside her coat, reminding herself to keep her distance. She had no idea what Rex would want with a woman like her. But they were alone in the woods, and he was stronger than her.

No one knew better than she did what a deadly combination the two could be.

HE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN Hailey was dangerous.

Thad Jordan examined the stitches around his eye, frowning at the discolored skin. He was going to have a scar. And all because of that damn woman.

Hailey would pay for what she’d done to him.

“Sir, are you all right?”

His secretary’s voice drifted from the doorway. As usual, she sounded meek and mild, irritating him. The opposite of Hailey. She had looked small and fragile, but he’d sensed an untapped passion below the surface. She’d proven herself to be tough and spunky.

Too spunky for her own good it had turned out.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just bring me my coffee. And make it hot this time.”

She nodded and slithered away to fetch it for him, bringing a grin to his face. At least she rushed to his beck and call when he barked—the way a woman should.

Before he finished with Hailey, she’d learn that lesson, too.

He picked up the phone and dialed the private investigator he kept on retainer.

“Carl Wormer here.”

“Wormer, this is Jordan. I need your help.”

“What is it this time? A case you want me to work on?”

“No.” Thad ran his finger over the emblem on his signet ring. “This one is personal.”

“Personal?”

“Yes. I need you to find Hailey Hitchcock.”

“And then what?”

“Just let me know where she is.” A chuckle built in his throat as he envisioned what he’d do to her. That pretty pale neck, those big brown eyes—he’d see her on her knees begging for her life before it was over.

And then, only then, would he decide her final punishment.

Chapter Three

The next two days as Hailey cleaned the house, she discovered a few nice antiques in the parlor, an iron bed in the master bedroom and a Chippendale sofa in the sitting room. The claw-foot dining-room table also added an ambience to the dreary interior. Painting the rooms would definitely spark new life to the inside.

But painting would keep Rex Falcon around longer, which was both a blessing and a curse. Rex distracted her from the fact that Thad might be looking for her, and kept her from dwelling on the fact that people had died in the house.

But his presence also unnerved her on a sexual level.

Not that he’d made any kind of advance toward her. But occasionally she sensed him watching her from a distance. Studying her as if he possessed a keen sight that could see inside her.

Another reason she’d maintained her distance. Her secrets would stay safely hidden.

Unless Thad decided to look for her.

His parting words echoed in her head, I’ll never let you go, Hailey. You’re mine forever.

Fighting the fear threatening to consume her, she headed up to shower before she drove to town for supplies. Then she’d meet the owners of the bed-and-breakfast and ask them to post an advertisement for her business on their bulletin board.

As soon as she undressed, the cool air inside the house brushed her nerve endings. It was almost as if someone was in the room with her. A ghost maybe?

No, that was ridiculous. Shaking off her foolishness, she climbed into the shower. The warm water soothed her, but when she closed her eyes, fingers of tension coiled inside her. She could almost feel Rex’s heated gaze linger over her naked body. His hands trailing down her damp breasts. His lips pressing along her sensitive skin, loving her.

She jerked her eyes open. She’d never lusted for a man before, especially like this. Not even Thad, who she’d actually considered sleeping with, and he’d appeared to be charming, educated and a professional. So why was she fantasizing about Rex Falcon, a mysterious, dangerous man she’d only met?

The isolation—that was the only explanation.

The floor squeaked above her and she froze. The attic. Were there squirrels or raccoons inside? Or could someone have climbed in there to hide? A homeless person or stranded hiker might want refuge from the elements in the dead of winter. But she hadn’t seen signs of anyone in the house when she’d first arrived.

She slipped on her terry-cloth robe and padded to the door, eased it open and listened. Another squeak. Rex?

No, Rex was working in the first-floor bathroom.

Taking a deep breath, she tiptoed down the hall, then unlocked the door to the staircase. The old-fashioned house had very poor lighting, and darkness shrouded the narrow spiral stairway, the scent of musk and some pungent odor she didn’t recognize stifling. Maybe an animal had gotten inside. A hawk or vulture or even a bat.

Holding her breath, she started up the stairs, but darkness trapped her. She clutched the stair rail, unable to make her feet move. Panic overtook her, and her vision clouded.

She was a little girl. Alone. Scared.

Someone pushed her, shoved her forward. She was terrified, clutching her stomach. A harsh hand gripped hers and dragged her anyway. Her knees hit the steps, and she cried, but he jerked her on, blood trickling down her legs. A sob welled in her throat. Her throat clogged. A screeching sound echoed from above.

He flung her inside the room and shut the door, pitching her into the cavern.

DAMMIT. REX HAD TRIED to search the attic while Hailey showered, but now she was coming upstairs to find him. He fumbled for an excuse as he closed the trunk of memorabilia he’d been scrounging through. So far, he’d found nothing.

Deciding on his story, he headed down the steps.

A pang of concern hit him when he saw Hailey. She was frozen on the staircase, her hand clutching the rail in a white-knuckled grip, her face deathly pale.

His brain ordered him not to get involved, but instincts forced reason aside. “Hailey?” He lowered his voice to the soft, crooning pitch he used with the hawks. “What’s wrong?”

She startled, her eyes drifting back into focus. “Rex?”

He nodded. “Are you all right? Did something happen?”

“I…I don’t know.”

He pried her icy hand from the rail and led her away from the entry. Her frightened eyes trapped him in their clutches. “What’s wrong?”

She tugged at the top of her robe, looking confused. His gaze fell to the opening, tempting him, but purple bruises marred the creamy skin of her neck. Anger bolted through him, along with protective instincts. She reminded him of one of the injured birds that had been battered by the hypocrisies of mankind.

“Did something happen?”

“I…I thought someone was up there.”

“It was me,” he said. “I finished with the bathroom cabinets, and I was going to replace the hardware. I thought the owners might have left some of the original pieces in the attic.”

She nodded, her lower lip trembling. A needy part of him that hadn’t seen daylight in years surged to life.

But he’d never shaken the fear that he had violent tendencies, that he could prey on the weaker like the raptors. Or that he belonged alone, that no woman would understand him, much less overcome the fact that his father was a convicted murderer.

She ran a hand through her hair, drawing him to the damp strands and the way they cupped her delicate face. There were scratches on her palms that he hadn’t noticed earlier. Had she gotten them cleaning, or had they been there before?

“I’d better get dressed,” she said. Suddenly looking panicky, she fled to her bedroom.

His chest squeezed with anger and other emotions he didn’t want to acknowledge. He couldn’t let his guard down around this woman, worry about her problems or give in to this wild urge to be with her. He had too much work to do on his father’s case.

Still, he wondered who had hurt her.